This article is part of NUFEC's ongoing coverage of the Independent Film Festival Boston 2015.

In a wolfpack, there is a leader: the Alpha male. They command respect, keep order, and enjoy first dibs on dinner. In The Wolfpack, Crystal Moselle’s debut documentary, there is no leader; there is only the shadow of a father.

The Angulo family lives on the Lower East Side. Six brothers and one sister are kept in seclusion from the outside world, whose windows are really only the small television set they have and a library of films numbering in the thousands. Images from Martin Scorsese, Christopher Nolan, and Quentin Tarantino fuel their eagerness to create – in the form of meticulous re-enactment. They recreate the scripts from scratch by transcribing the movies in real time, make costumes out of yoga mats and cereal boxes, and get into character using music from tape decks.

For roughly twenty years, this was the way things were in the Angulo household. Homeschool during the day, then movies. Dad, a Salinger-esque hermit, would stay in his room. The father’s obsession with his children’s safety verges on abuse; by trying to protect them from unspecified forces outside, he turned them into shut-ins. For all that, home video shows a warm upbringing. The children bond, polite and well-spoken. They celebrate birthdays and have parties. Throughout the documentary, there is no sign of child abuse by the father. There's a brief discussion of him slapping their mother several times during their upbringing, but largely he only drifts in and out of the frame.

The hook may be the reenactments: silly, heartfelt renderings of Batman and Tarantino characters. But the real intrigue comes from the father’s cultish impact on the family. The patriarch is the most interesting character, but unfortunately he has the least screen time.

Moselle positions herself as a fly on the wall in the claustrophobic apartment, but is shy about addressing her influence on the family dynamic. As the first and only guest in their apartment, it’s hard to believe that Moselle was merely an observer throughout several years of filming.

We only get a few brief encounters with the father and mother. I was left with more questions after the credits rolled. Moselle teases us with these enigmatic people, but leaves us shy of any real closure. The brothers eagerness to leave the family makes you eager with them, grinding your teeth in frustration that one little lock can keep such bright young people away for so long. The story is captivating enough to keep you going, but what it really needs is a better director–or maybe a leader.

Grade: C+

This article is part of NUFEC's ongoing coverage of the Independent Film Festival Boston 2015.

Being the story of how an artist’s presumed death launches his work from obscurity to belated celebrity, I thought that Posthumous offered an interesting premise and some solid ground to explore important questions about success in the art world. However, it turned out to be slightly disappointing.  

When most people think of country music, they generally don’t associate it with Japan. Although Japan has absorbed and assimilated many forms of Western music, from rock to metal and the infamous J-pop, country music never gained much of a foothold in the land of samurai and anime. But there’s always an exception that makes the rule, and in this case it’s a woman named Tomi Fujiyama. While growing up in post-war Japan, Tomi gained a taste for country music after hearing it on American army bases. Quickly becoming one of the stars of the (admittedly small) Japanese country circuit, she eventually moved to the United States in search of a bigger audience and more opportunities for her music. Her dream came true on the night of November 9, 1964, when she played for a national audience on the Grand Ole Opry, the most prestigious venue in country music. She received a twenty minute standing ovation, something that even Johnny Cash (who also performed that night) could not claim.

Directed by John Bishop, Made in Japan is probably one of the most unlikely stories of either Japan or country music I’ve ever seen. The documentary charts both Tomi’s history in the music industry and her contemporary quest: to play on the Grand Ole Opry one last time. The documentary manages to be charming, humorous, and occasionally touching all at once; Tomi Fujiyama is a fascinating person, with the drive of youth and the warmth of a grandmother at the same time. She is a great musician, with a well-honed skill at the guitar and a beautiful voice, whether singing in English or Japanese. The film features numerous performances by Fujiyama, both original recordings from her youth and more contemporary fare; even though she’s 75 years old she still performs frequently. Between the fascinating and unique story and the magnetism of Tomi herself, Made in Japan is a must-see for anyone interested in country music, Japan, or a totally unexpected story. 


Grade: B+

I very openly consider myself a geek. I love videogames, anime, and movies (obviously). However, I do not consider myself a comic book geek. I didn’t grow up reading about the heroic tales Superman or The Avengers. I didn’t read any comic books until I was in high school, and even today my experience with comics is limited and decisively non-standard: Alan Moore’s V for Vendetta and Watchmen and Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. However, both of those writers worked somewhere else before they wrote the stories that are so near and dear to my heart: a British anthology comic called 2000 AD. Featuring tales of the near and the far future, the title’s mix of classic science-fiction, brutally graphic violence and biting social commentary, 2000 AD was an instant hit among British comics fans when it was first published in 1977. Over its long history it has featured stories from nearly every famous British comics author, from the aforementioned Alan Moore and Neil Gaiman to Garth Ennis (Preacher), Grant Morrison (Doom Patrol), and Mark Millar (Kick-Ass). It was the home of some of the most well-known stories of science-fiction comics, from Moore’s abortive Halo Jones, to the phenomenally popular Judge Dredd.

Created by Paul Goodwin, Future Shock! charts the history of 2000 AD from its inception on the heels of the post-Star Wars science craze to its stagnation in the 1990s following the departure of many of their best writers to their recent revival. It features interviews with a huge number of the writers and artists who have worked for the title over the decades, but the film as a whole is anchored by the original creator of 2000 AD, Pat Mills. Many of these creators, particularly Mills himself, have very strong personalities, refuse to censure themselves, and don’t like each other very much. Goodwin does a very good job of showing a balanced view of 2000 AD, of both its good parts such as the camaraderie between the founding members, and the less-proud aspects of its history, such as many of the stories that were run in the 1990s. Overall, Future Shock! is a fascinating and entertaining story about a realm of geek culture I knew next to nothing about. 


Grade: B+

Do I Sound Gay? follows writer David Thorpe after he and his boyfriend breakup, prompting David to pay more attention to what makes him a desirable partner at 40. One of his biggest concerns: sounding gay. This film begins as a personal journey of self-discovery but soon expands into a social and cultural examination of what it means to sound gay as well as the ensuing implications.

David’s exploration of confidence and self-knowledge was complimented by interviews with fascinating individuals including comedian Margaret Cho, sex advice columnist Dan Savage, writer David Sedaris, actor George Tekai, and fashion expert Tim Gunn on their assessments of both their own voices and the cultural biases surrounding the gay voice. It was also complimented by staged scenes, which felt a little off, and by street interviews.

I watched this film with my parents, who were in town from Iowa for the weekend. It prompted quite unexpected dinner conversation, especially regarding the three gay porn scenes featured in the film. To be clear, they each last probably 3-5 seconds, so they take up maybe 15 seconds total out of a 75-min film. I find the choice to include those scenes both bold and necessary; how can the filmmaker discuss his fear of not being desired and not address how this may tie to his own and cultural perceptions of desire through porn? Still, I admit it surprising and the lead-up was practically non-existent, giving me little time to mentally prepare to see (blurred, but still clear) gay porn. My mother and father saw the porn addition as a weakness that drew them out of the film, and I can understand their conundrum. The inclusion of the porn scenes ensured that the film, while anchored in universal questioning of confidence and desire for connection, remained incredibly tied to the film’s subject and unfortunately did detract from the connections I felt to the film. That being said, I would not advise him to remove the scenes; as this is still a personal exploration, it is necessary to discuss issues and stereotypes around pleasure.

Despite our arguments over those scenes, our conclusions were the same: the film was a fascinating take on the impact of the voice, from scientific examinations of intonation to the use of the “gay” voice in film. The cultural impact and assessment was the most intriguing; I immediately began paying more attention to the way I speak as well as my perceptions surrounding speech. If you can handle three quick porn scenes (you probably can), this is a worthwhile 75-min exploration that provides a whole new lens through which to view our culture of voices.

Grade: B

This article is part of NUFEC's ongoing coverage of IFFBoston 2015.
Film Awards: Winner of the Grand Jury Prize and the Audience Award at the 2015 Sundance Film Festival

You can read this review in its entirety, but I’ll save you some time if you’re a busy person on a train or something and you’re reading this in a hurry: go see this movie. In the review below, I’m going to tell you how emotional, hilarious, heartbreaking, surprising, and fantastic this film is. I’m going to tell you that writing this review brings up nearly too many emotions about this film to continue writing. I’m going to keep my descriptions as pithy as possible to avoid the rabbit hole of feels I felt throughout and after watching this film. Go see it; blame me if you regret it.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl follows a high school senior, Greg (Thomas Mann), as he attempts to blend in to every self-identified group in his high school with enough anonymity to avoid deep relationships of any kind – friends, enemies, et cetera. It’s his survival strategy; he even describes his life-long companion, Earl (RJ Cyler), with whom he makes short film parodies of classic movies, as a 'co-worker’ rather than a best friend. Greg approaches applying to colleges as he does everything: if you don’t care much about it, nothing can go wrong. Greg’s mom (Connie Britton) soon insists he spend time with a girl in his class recently diagnosed with cancer, Rachel (Olivia Cooke). Despite his initial objections, Greg becomes friends with Rachel quickly and soon their friendship nearly engulfs his life entirely.

I’m having an incredibly difficult time writing about this film; it’s so full of heart and emotion that every time I sit down to write about it I start to feel to full of the feels to continue. But, alas, I will try to trip through this because it’s worth it. Please, just go easy on me.

First and foremost, Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is undeniably hilarious and quick-witted, yet feels genuine and poignant. The film captures the emotional dichotomies of teenage life while avoiding the trap of feeling trite or mocking. Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon balances injection of the normalcies of everyday life with the serious trauma of cancer treatment, facing the subject of cancer head on without taking itself too seriously. I was consistently surprised at the expertise employed that made each character feel so tangible. 

For those turned off by the premise of a teenage girl contracting cancer, don’t worry so much; for the most part, the film doesn’t feel as serious as that suggests. Nick Offerman offers advice as Greg's father, though he's also a robe-clad philosophy professor whose afternoon snacks for Greg and Earl consist of squid or octopus or other oddities. The film is also interjected with scenes from the films Greg and Earl make that are parodies of classic films: we see one called Breathe Less, seemingly about a man with asthma, as a parody of the drama/romance Breathless, for example.

This film is beautiful, heartbreaking, heartwarming, funny, and genuine to a level I never expected. Go see it.

Grade: A+

This documentary short film caught my attention immediately, just as the original story captivated millions last year: Christopher Knight, dubbed the "North Pond Hermit", lived in the woods of Maine and had no human contact for over 27 years before he was caught by police. He stole all he possessed from nearby summerhouses, so those in the area were familiar, though uneasy and frustrated, with the strange burglaries that involved peanut butter going missing while jewels were left untouched. His eventual arrest and identity disclosure created a media frenzy, during which I read GQ's article titled "The Strange & Curious Tale of the Last True Hermit" - a title I dismiss, given the subjective definition of a "true hermit" and knowing Christopher Knight is likely not the "last" of those living somewhere in isolation.

Unfortunately, The Hermit felt too disorganized to pack much of a punch. For such a ripe and unique story, the exploration felt conventional and surface-level. Thoughtful discussion of the reasons why someone would choose to live a life of isolation felt too rare. Several times, the film seemed to be building up to a thoughtful assessment of even one part of the story, but time and time again it failed to produce a conclusion. Some interviews with townspeople focused on the way Christopher Knight looked in his mug shot, which was never shown. I respect the filmmaker's choice not to show the photo if the choice centered on Christopher Knight's request for some level of visual anonymity, but the focus on his appearance in a mug shot should accordingly be of less focus. It wasn't.

The only really intriguing parts of the film were the interviews with the townspeople; thankfully, those were a large focus, but unfortunately they were delivered in a piecemeal fashion that diminished their impact. The film often felt torn between conveying every single thought the townspeople had about the man and constructing a thoughtful discussion around his choices and their impact; sadly, the film leaned much more towards the latter than the former. It felt like it built up a few different thoughts to about 60%, leaving everything just under par.

I walked away knowing more about the divisive opinions within the community, but I knew those likely existed prior to seeing the film. Director Lena Friendrich definitely picked a fantastic story to cover, but I'm not sure this version is the best one. Maybe wait for a second cut.

Grade: C

This article is part of NUFEC's ongoing coverage of the Independent Film Festival Boston 2015.

David Foster Wallace was a brilliant writer teaching at a small college in the Midwest whose novel, Infinite Jest, had just been released to phenomenal reviews in many national publications. The unique time period between the release of the book and the time it took people to finish the 1,000-page novel occurred during Wallace’s book tour, and it was during this time that Rolling Stone writer David Lipsky.

I've traveled to various places in Europe seven times, yet I've never purchased a Kinder Surprise egg before. I wasn't even aware that such a treat existed: a small, chocolate egg that is hollow and reveals a yellow case inside (the "yolk") housing a small toy. For many growing up in Europe, these were apparently nostalgic items reflecting childhood; indeed, the subject of this film finds the eggs to remind him of his childhood in Bulgeria, where he couldn't access the eggs easily both due to a short supply and a lack of disposable income. The evident parallel restricting his access to the eggs now is that they're illegal in the United States; they're considered a choking hazard (only American children would choke on these; the rest of the world is apparently fine). The subject of the film regularly transported the eggs into the United States, but he was more recently stopped at the Canadian border with the illegal eggs and risks losing his work permit in the United States if he is caught transporting them again. Accordingly, we never see his face.

Crooked Candy is simple, elegant, and surprisingly tender. We watch the man interact with his collection of hundreds of Kinder toys as he speaks in a very measured, unassuming, almost calming tone about what the eggs mean to him. When the 6-minute film ended, I was left with so many questions; chiefly, why did it have to end so quickly? It feels rare that a voiceover short film shot largely in the same room and with limited visual engagement of the single subject could so quickly and delightfully engage, but engage it did. I will undoubtedly seek out those Kinder eggs the next time I leave the States, and I look forward to the next unique surprise from director Andrew Rodgers.

Grade: A-